Into The Woods
by Monday Morning Murder
Summary: In which Pikachu needs a cigarette.


**Authors note: **Some people may think that Pikachu is totally out of character, but I promise you that he is not. I mean, really, just think about it: Of course Pikachu smokes.

* * *

Pikachu had a headache. A bad headache. Tiny, little spots of darkness danced in front of his eyes, and he knew it was a bad idea to keep walking. He should rest, lie down on the grass under the shadow of a tree, close his eyes, rest, rest, rest, sleep... no, he shouldn't sleep, that was the problem. He had to walk. He had to find Ash.

He had to get revenge.

Pikachu kept walking. Everything looked the same. He passed endless rows of dark tree trunks only to find more trees, more branches, more leaves that shivered in the cool breeze, more rocks to climb. He didn't even know what direction he should turn his nose towards.

And every bone in his body was hurting, as they naturally would after that high a fall. And that was only after he had been hurled through the air like a... a... like a small, yellow thing.

Oh, how his head was hurting.

Well. The secret, he thought, was to just place one leg in front of the other. If he kept doing that, he was bound to move. And if he moved, he would get somewhere. And since Ash was somewhere, Pikachu would then find him. Piece of cake.

He somehow sensed a flaw in his brilliant plan, but let the thought go. After all, it wasn't like he was captured for his brains, so there really wasn't that much one could expect from him.

But now his paws were aching too, a throbbing pain that grew with every step he took. It felt like he had been walking for hours and hours.

Dammit. Damn it all.

Pikachu reached into his secret pocket and hauled out a packet of cigarettes.

He leaned against a moss-covered rock, and flicked his lighter thrice before a small flame licked the tip of his cancerous stick of joy. Slowly he inhaled the smoke, and just as slowly he let it out, watching it spiral into the air, drifting away, dissolving into nothingness. It was just as watching all of his troubles vaporise. Disappear.

Except for the headache, the throbbing in his paws, and the fact that he was lost somewhere deep within the woods. But that was details. Mere details.

He filled his small lungs with nicotine once more. God, it felt good. He was always so careful not to smoke when Ash was nearby, so these rare and stolen moments tasted even better.

"Cute pokémons don't smoke," someone had once told him. "You have an image to think of. You can't let anyone know you smoke."

Pikachu was about to say something both cute and clever, but the someone interrupted: "Nor drink."

And people claimed being cute was easy.

He puffed his smoke for a while longer, pondering on what to do next, when suddenly his long and sensitive ears picked up on a sound. Not the kind of sound he usually heard in the woods: birds, leaves, squirrels, pokémons, no... those kind of noises he knew. After all, he was a forest creature.

But this was something else.

He slowly stomped out his cigarette against the rock, then tilted his head slightly to the left. It was... a voice. A worried - yet enthusiastic - boyish voice.

A shiver ran through his body, and he started running.

Trees, trees, leaves, rocks, bushes, branches, trunks, trees... the little ball of yellow fur flew past and under and over with renewed energy, passing all hindrances in tremendous speed.

Then the woods was behind him, leaving nothing but green grass and a blue sky in front of him. And a dark haired boy with washed-out jeans standing before him, like a statue carved out of marble.

"Pikachu, where have you been?" Ash shouted, as the small pokémon threw himself into the boy's open arms, "I was worried sick about you! You've been gone almost twenty minutes!"

Pikachu blinked. What? Twenty minutes? Not... hours and hours and days and decades? Huh. He though he had more stamina than that. Maybe it was the smoking.

He should tell Brock they had to cut down on their secret nights out.

"What happened? Where have you been?"

Pikachu was about to explain everything when Ash started sniffing the air like a blood hound. "Do I smell smoke?"

The ground was hard and Pikachu rubbed his lower back as different thoughts and scenarios ran through his head.

As he watched Ash loom over him, eyebrows frowned, hands firmly placed on the sides, the yellow pokémon realized there was really only one thing he could say, that Ash would actually believe.

"Pika-chu!"

"Oh," Ash answered. "Well. That explains it. But what are we waiting for, then? We have other battles to fight! Let's go!"

Pikachu watched the boy stroll down the road in quite a slow pace. There was a bright side to this, the tired pokémon reminded himself of as he started jumping after Ash.

As soon as the opportunity rose, he was going to electrocute the shit out of Psyduck.

* * *


End file.
